Runaway
by Kairyuu-san
Summary: Dally sees that the the police are looking for a murderer. But this time, they’ve got the wrong guy—him. So, he runs away, and discovers a side of him that he thought would never be let out ever again . . . (Based on the song “Runaway” by Linkin Park.)
1. On the Run

**Disclaimer: **I do not own The Outsiders or Linkin Park. I wish I did, though.

**Rating: **PG-13

**Summary: **Dally's caught in another murder rap. But this time, they've got the wrong guy—him. So, he runs away, and discovers a side of him that he thought would never be let out ever again . . . ((Based on the song "Runaway" by Linkin Park.))

**Author Notes: **I was in the mood for writing a one-shot, and music usually is a good fill-in for me to get me in the right place. But anyway, I wanted to write a songfic that's based on a Linkin Park song, 'cause they're so cool XD And I thought this song was perfect for Dally. Anyway, here we go! (I don't guarantee that it'll be that good, though . . .)

**Runaway**

"What?"

"You're under arrest."

"No, man . . . I never did that. I ain't that stupid."

"That's what they all say. You're coming with me, son."

" . . . You've gotta catch me first."

_Graffiti decorations  
Under the sky of dust  
A constant wave of tension  
On top of broken trust  
The lessons that you taught me  
I learned were never true . . ._

"Shit, not the electric chair . . ."

Dallas Winston stormed into his car. Of course, they accused him of another crime, yet again, and at first, he decided to keep his cool, at always . . . until they mentioned . . .

Murder.

A West-sider was found dead in greaser territory. It was probably just another stupid thing that was caused by the conflict between the two groups. But as always, the police thought that they knew who had done it—Dally. Shoot, of course he did a whole lot of things, but murder? Even he didn't want to get in for murder.

Electric chair . . .

"Ain't no way they're takin' me," he told himself, pounding the pedal to the floor. A fake grin crossed his face as he noticed something—he was shaking. His hand clumsily turned the key in the ignition . . .

And the chase began.

But this time, it wasn't just for fun and making the police mad. It was for a lot more than that, and Dally's driving was a little less smooth than before.

You wouldn't be able to help it either, if your heart was pounding and hands shaking.

"I'll get outta here," he said to himself, checking the rear view mirror. The fuzz was gaining on him, and he watched as the driver pulled out his radio to call for back up. "Shit," Dally muttered, looking back at the empty road.

It was night, and the street lights had just gone on. 'Hopefully', he thought, 'There won't be any idiot who'll get in my way.'

_Now I find myself in question . . .  
They point the finger at me again  
Guilty by association . . .  
You point the finger at me again_

Dally had no clue where he was going. Nothing seemed familiar, and everything was a blur. He didn't know how fast he was going, either, except that it was making him sick. It was also getting harder to breathe.

"It wasn't me . . ." he growled through clenched teeth.

"It wasn't me."

_I wanna run away  
Never say goodbye  
I wanna know the truth  
Instead of wondering why  
I wanna know the answers  
No more lies!  
I wanna shut the door  
And open up my mind . . ._

Wait . . . what was that?

"SHIT!"

Dally let the brakes scream, almost running into a truck. He spun the wheel, making the car spin, and then its back rammed into the truck. The 17 year old felt a few shards of glass crash into the back of his head, and one even sliced past his face, making a pretty long cut on his cheek.

'Shit. Now what?'

He threw open the car door, looking around. The police were coming . . .

The rest was completely instinct for him—run.

_Paper bags and angry voices  
Under a sky of dust  
Another wave of tension  
Has more than filled me up  
All my talk of taking action  
These words were never true_

He heard the sound of yelling behind him, but he didn't care. There was no time for that. Dally tore blindly behind the truck, and heard a lot of bullets ring in the air. The police seemed to let them rip freely. Whoever'd killed that Soc really did something to make the police do something like this.

'They're probably paid by Socs,' Dally concluded, glad that the truck had acted as a barrier. But it was no time to rest. He continued running, hearing footsteps behind him. They abandoned their cars, as well.

'I'm gonna run away . . .'

_Now I find myself in question . . .  
They point the finger at me again  
Guilty by association . . .  
You point the finger at me again_

Dallas glanced around. Everything was becoming familiar again. This was close to the train station. 'Well,' he decided, 'Time to go.'

He glanced behind him, and the police fired on him again. Dally felt a bullet rip right through the side of his jacket, blowing off a piece of it. It hadn't landed on him, but it grazed his arm. That was close.

Too close.

But he could hear a train leaving, because it let out a mighty roar, and let out steam from its top. "Get me outta here," Dally jumped onto one of the boxcars, but it was closed.

'Shit.'

The train started to pick up pace. 'Damn, what'm I gonna do?' but his thoughts were shattered when he saw a bullet hole appear next to him. Dally scaled along the side of the train, looking for a way to get in.

'C'mon, there's gotta be _one_ open car . . .'

And there was one . . . but it was pretty far away. 'Okay, I've just gotta—'

"SHIT!"

A bullet hit him on his leg, and he nearly toppled off of the train. Now, he hung onto a small ledge by his right hand.

The train was going faster.

'No . . . I _am _getting out of here . . .'

_I wanna run away  
Never say goodbye  
I wanna know the truth  
Instead of wondering why  
I wanna know the answers  
No more lies!  
I wanna shut the door  
And open up my mind . . ._

He finally managed to swing his right leg into a small hole. If he could just get into that car, it would be okay. At least the police were gone. But, he wasn't sure if he was gonna make it . . .

"No . . . I'm gonna make it . . ." he panted, spitting out some blood.

He led his hand to go further along the car. Using only his right hand and right leg, he managed to get one car away from the open one. "Shit . . ." Dally noticed he was shaking again. He thought he was gonna let go any moment now. He was just about to when he decided otherwise.

"I ain't gonna die by fallin' off a fuckin' train," he gasped, continuing on. It was right there . . . and so was something else.

"Shit . . ."

There was an upcoming tunnel.

"Make my day," Dally challenged, grabbing onto another part of the car. "I ain't dyin' here after all this."

But it was right there . . .

_I'm gonna run away, and never say goodbye  
Gonna run away, gonna run away  
I'm gonna run away and never wonder why  
Gonna run away, gonna run away  
I'm gonna run away and open up my mind  
Gonna run away, gonna run away, gonna run away,_

_Gonna__ run away . . ._

And with along heave, Dally swung himself into the open box car, watching the wall of the tunnel pass him. "Take that . . ."

He looked down at his hands. They were blistered and had a purple color. And his leg was dripping blood. 'Better take care of this first.' He ripped off that bottom part of his pants and wrapped it around his injury.

"Why did it have to be me?" he asked aloud. "Oh, yeah . . . I'm a troublemaker." Dally grinned at his own answer. He leaned back against the wall. It was going to be a long ride, and he didn't have a smoke. But now what? He was wanted by the police and was already on his way to . . . dying.

Dying. He never thought of that before. "I ain't gonna die," he said, but his own voice surprised him. It sounded so . . . weak. _Was _he going to die . . .?

"So . . . is this what happens to runaways?"

_I wanna run away  
Never say goodbye  
I wanna know the truth  
Instead of wondering why  
I wanna know the answers  
No more lies!  
I wanna shut the door  
And open up my mind . . ._

_I wanna run away and open up my mind . . ._

He looked over towards the side of the car . . . shit. There was something looking right back at him.

""""  
**Author Notes: **Okay, I just changed my mind from this being a one-shot, so I don't really know what to do with it. XD I put Dally in a horrendous situation, and I . . . haven't really planned what's gonna happen. XD

Dally: What?

Nothing. This was supposed to be a one-shot, but as I ended it, I thought about something. But, I probably won't continue. I also just noticed that I used the word "shit", like a bajillion times. XD

In my opinion, I don't like how this went. It was just all blurry to me. O o; I don't like it. Maybe I'll delete it—who knows. Or not continue it for all I know.

But whatever . . . anyway, please review!


	2. A New Companion

**Disclaimer: **I do not own it.

**Fiction Rating: **T (T for teen . . . heh. I just turned 13. XD)

**Author Notes: **Gr. I don't really know where to go with this story, because lately, I've been focusing on my deviantART stuff. Gomen nasai! I just don't know . . . even though I think I'm better at writing than drawing, yeah . . .

:cough: Anyway, here's the story.

**Runaway**

Dally blinked; he knew there was something there in the darkness of the car. Light yellow eyes . . .

_"Uff!"_

"The fuck?" he asked himself, squinting into the darkness. "Who's there?" No reply. "Fucking show yourself." Something there shifted and moved around, he could tell, but it didn't reveal itself. "COME OUT!" he roared, hearing a small whimper.

Cocking a brow, the greaser tried to get up, only to fall back onto the ground. He didn't dare fall asleep, because whatever the hell that thing was, he didn't want it to do anything to him. He had to be on his guard at all times.

After a while, there was a scratching noise in the darkness. The whole car had become dark, because night grew older—so did Dally's patience. 'When is this fucking train gonna come to a goddamn stop?' he thought, warily running a hand through his hair.

Once again, he heard whatever it was shift somewhere in the darkness. He narrowed his eyes. "Goddamn it, come out already!" he jumped to his feet, but felt an extremely sharp pain in his leg. "SHIT!" he gasped, plopping onto the cold, hard ground. "S-shit . . ." Dally checked to see if something had opened up again.

But suddenly, something tackled him and threw him onto the ground! "G-gaaah!" Dally growled, trying throw whatever it was off of him, but nothing worked. It held firm, until finally, the greaser stopped, pretending to be dead on his back.

There was a warm, smelly gust of wind in his face . . . and then something wet ran against his cheek. Dally gritted his teeth. 'Stay . . . calm,' he told himself, but he couldn't. He grabbed the thing by the neck, and threw it onto the ground. "Who's the loser now?" he asked, grinning. Whatever it was, it whimpered, and jabbed its leg into Dally's stomach.

"Mother fu—" Dally gasped, clutching his stomach. He panted, desperately trying to breathe. "What the fuck are you?" he asked, putting his back against the side of the truck to face it. Instead of a reply, it said something like, "Uff!" The greaser cocked a brow. His vision was blurry, and it was too dark to see, anyway.

"Well, whatever," he decided, trying to figure out what it was. He knew what it was . . . but couldn't name it. His head was pounding and it was getting harder to breathe. It was a huge effort to even keep his eyes open. Eventually, he drifted into sleep . . .

* * *

_Thud._There was a screeching noise, and Dally felt himself slide along the floor and ram his head into a side of the car. They were there . . . where ever 'there' was. He opened one eye lazily, to see piercing yellow eyes look right back at him. "Whoa!" he jerked back, slamming the back of his head against the car. The creature backed away slowly into the door, but stayed there.

The 17 year old knew that they would start checking the cars soon, so he got up, even though every muscle in his body was yelling at him to get some more sleep. As he got up, it was like every limb in him cracked. Also, the place where he got shot was burning like hell. "What the fuck am I gonna do?" he asked himself, heading towards the door.

He felt like he had no control over himself. As he walked to open the door, he couldn't even feel himself stepping on the floor. Then, this black thing darted in front of him . . . and tugged on his leg. But why the hell was it all the way down there? Dally shook his head. 'Focus, Dallas,' he told himself, opening the door.

Light burst through the opening, which hurt Dally's eyes. "Now . . ." he said, ". . . . to find out what you are . . ." he glanced down at the thing, which was a little black furry thing tugging at his pants. "What the hell?" he picked it up by the neck, and it licked his face.

"A dog?" he asked, putting it back on the ground. "A dog . . . great. Thanks. I'm innocent this time, and all you send me is a mother fucking dog?"

But it would be more than just a dog—way more.

"""""  
**Author Notes: **Gah. I had no ideas whatsoever. So, I used this. O o; The only thing I could think of was this. ; I know. It's stupid. But, yeah . . . So, please review!


End file.
